


Escape Plan

by slightlyjillian



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1756427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy never saw much point to denying himself what he wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Written after Episode 12: We Are Grounders (part one). I have utilized a few direct lines of dialogue from both this episode and a previous one, Episode 4: Murphy's Law. 
> 
> Murphy is a splendid antagonist. For the purposes of exploring this story, I took several liberties including a few unlikely interpretations of Murphy's motivations, his relationship with Bellamy, and his experiences with the Grounders. Please enjoy and thanks for reading!

Murphy never saw much point to denying himself what he wanted. Life was short, shitty and no one was going to look out for you but you. So when the Ark dumps you on earth and suddenly all of everything is at your fingertips: a guy's priorities change. Eat, sleep and…

"Murphy, what happened to the other rain bucket?" 

Murphy went motionless in the hammock. If he kept his eyes closed, he could almost imagine he was still alone. The distance muffled the sounds of the camp. 

He told himself that he didn't mind being given orders if they came from someone who oozed liberated masculinity and testosterone. Someone who wasn't from the elite families or those who made life on the Ark insufferable. 

Bellamy Blake was someone new. Not that everyone on the Ark knew everyone else but someone would practically have to spend every moment in their Ten-by-Ten quarters to not recognize a face.

Unless, of course, you were already arrested in Five-by-Seven solitary confinement and had to get the whole Blake sibling story from a Unity Day lover like Atom. 

Murphy opened his eyes.

"John where the hell have you been?" Bellamy Blake hovered in the space above--a perfect vision of a sweat-covered, hot mess. "John! You need to turn up the hearing aid."

Murphy swung upward in his hammock, appreciating the slick way Bellamy could glide back to avoid the headbutt. 

"Talking to me?" Murphy touched his left ear, as if the device was ever turned off. That was Bellamy's observation. Most people didn't notice. Murphy wouldn't follow most people.

"Right," Bellamy indulged, quietly with less posturing than if the crowds were present. "I was looking for you." 

Bellamy's gaze became appreciative. 

_Well, look at that,_ Murphy relaxed. He recognized that heat from men, and he had learned a thing or two on the Ark. Indeed, he had wondered if it would be this way between them. Could Murphy simply fit himself into the space that Bellamy kept filled with leggy brunettes?

The older boy didn't repeat his original question. Murphy answered anyway, "Clarke took the second canister. Why don't you ask her what happened to it?"

Eye contact wasn't something Bellamy dropped. Most kids would have shifted away from Murphy's dead stare. For them a locked-gaze was intimidating. Murphy used them to win. Power games were part of life. Only in this case, Murphy simply didn't want to stop looking.

Bellamy smiled, "I knew it."

"You know what… exactly?" Murphy challenged, enjoying the way space seemed to disappear between them. It had been a long time since he'd wanted to proposition someone. 

Lips curling, Bellamy must have recognized the moment. He said, "I don't want to have to respect you in the morning."

"Roma doesn't ask for respect, and you don't tell her no," Murphy scoffed. All they need to do was take care not to rip the last of their clothes. Most Ark kids learned to follow that rule. Earth didn't seem to be much different. Respect the wardrobe, get naked.

Inexplicably, the atmosphere shifted. Murphy thought he was used to that since nothing on Earth could stay the same for twenty-four hours. But this change was annoying. Bellamy's face shut down. 

"This isn't about Roma," Murphy blurted. "You've got other needs. Sure, I get that. Who doesn't?"

"Not a good idea, Murphy."

"John was fine." Murphy's version of flirting might have come out a little more romantic than he intended. Maybe Bellamy misunderstood. "So why not? Whatever the hell we want, wasn't it? You clearly want this. You have nothing to worry about with me…"

"Not," Bellamy clipped. "Happening."

"Fine," sulked Murphy. He bounced his knife in his palm. "But don't even think of demoting me over this… or I will cut you."

"Whatever," came the reply as Bellamy had already roamed away. "Find Miller and get the damn bucket back."

Murphy begrudgingly admired that indifference as he watched Bellamy's stride. Nothing had changed, and, when the urge resurfaced, again and inevitably, Bellamy always knew where to find him. 

.:.

Murphy lingered at the camp fire watching as it flickered dimly, going out as it was left unattended. 

After an afternoon of searching for Goggle Boy, the cat meat had been beyond delicious, even when the hierarchy splintered and the stakes of smoking flesh were completely gone. Although Finn's interruption hadn't broken Bellamy's system, it was the first time their boss had put his own fists into the mix to re-establish order. Bellamy had disappeared soon after.

Miller appeared, crouching next to Murphy. 

"We're stringing up Atom," Miller announced.

Murphy jumped up, ready for some action that wasn't politely following Clarke on a rescue mission. Bellamy was in a mood so this had to be good. Murphy smirked, "Oh, what did he do?"

Miller hesitated, "Making out with the sister."

Murphy stayed very still so not to shake his head. He thought he admired loyalty, until he had seen it applied to siblings. Of course, Octavia didn't do anything for Murphy. He didn't even like to look at her. Which was noteworthy considering that most of Murphy's better dreams cornered the market on the brother. 

"Rule number one," Murphy grumbled. 

Atom should know better. Atom was useful. Smart. Murphy resented Atom somewhat for offering someone smart for Bellamy. 

Murphy stretched out his arms, bending his neck until it cracked. No matter the reason, he might just enjoy taking Atom down a rung or two. 

"Rule number one," Miller repeated, wistfully. 

"Seriously? Not you too?" accused Murphy. "Is that all you think about? Does Bellamy's sister throw out some sort of pound-me scent?" 

Straight guys had it rough, Murphy had determined. Can't get the girl. Can't get rid of the girl. Can't get the girl pregnant. But more often, he figured, straight guys created their own problems by letting things get so complicated. 

"Let's go hang a bastard," Murphy agreed, resigned.

Of course, Bellamy's idea of a punishment was to scare Atom and then let him go. Atom was smart. Bellamy was weak for that sort of smart-talking shit. 

.:.

Bellamy was also, obviously, weak for that goggle-boy shit too. Who, while also being a candidate for rule number one reprimands, was simply left to expire. 

The kid was dying. The kind thing to do would be to kill the space trash. The right thing to do would be to eliminate the shrieking that disrupted camp. The crazy thing to do was put off the choice. 

In the end, Murphy determined he had gone crazy because he was letting Bellamy get away with everything. Because Bellamy offered Murphy knife throwing lessons. 

Murphy's first attempted speared the tree. A lucky shot, but he was confident the good strike couldn't be too difficult to repeat.

"Good job, soldier." Bellamy crossed his arms, watching with far too much benevolence. 

"I said you could call me, John," Murphy reminded. It wasn't often the two of them were alone. Murphy enjoyed the attention. 

"I don't want to show preferential treatment," Bellamy replied, slow as if he were trying on the excuse.

Murphy scoffed, "Yeah, like you aren't prefertia…" He stopped. Frowned. 

Bellamy didn't laugh, waiting for Murphy to decide if he was going to start over or push through. Murphy paced to the tree to get his knife. While crossing back he studied Bellamy's expression. The interest was still there. Bellamy never directly turned Murphy down. 

Murphy revealed, "You do pick favorites." 

"John," Bellamy indulged, rolling his eyes as if the effort was only an indulgence. 

Murphy chuckled. 

Bellamy leaned closer, responding to the laughter. Into Murphy's weaker ear, Bellamy repeated, "John."

"John was my father's name," Murphy admitted. He rubbed at his ear, remembering how the damage was done. Before Bellamy's expression could turn more sympathetic, Murphy added, "His father's name was John too. And his father…"

"I don't want to think of old men when I say your name," Bellamy groaned, letting the pressure of emotions escape. 

"And calling me Murphy doesn't do the same?" He lined up another shot. 

"John."

Later he would blame Jasper's cries of pain for the errors and insult Atom for barging in. Murphy never mentioned his sweating palms as he wondered how far he wanted to push things and at what point Bellamy would break. And which way he would fall.

.:.

After Atom's death, Bellamy changed. 

Octavia's reaction to Atom's death escalated the inevitable. Maybe Bellamy only changed for the worst because of the sister. Maybe he never really cared for Murphy all along.

His knife was missing. Everything set him on edge. 

Displaced, Murphy decided to wait. No one else could tell the difference. Maybe the Bellamy with whom Murphy shared a common bond would return.

Murphy still felt the connection. Something about Bellamy's presence and focus was grounding. Fixed. Reliable. With Bellamy, Murphy had possibly come the closest to trusting someone to listen to him, hear him out and not float Murphy if Bellamy disagreed. 

Now their fights always ended with Murphy dropping his complaints.

"I'm sorry," Murphy tried again. And again.

Murphy had never been so well-behaved. He had never apologized to another person so much in his life. If he said he was sorry again, he was going to apologize for apologizing. 

Eventually Murphy expected a result. He really wanted in Bellamy's pants.

And that was the real problem. Now, they never talked about anything other than the wall. Murphy was always left overseeing the wall, guarding the wall, and organizing the workers at the wall. 

Bellamy was never alone with anyone, except for the cycle of interested girls. Roma being the only repeat who Murphy thought worth any attention. She at least acknowledged Bellamy's charisma snared more than the girls from the Ark.

"Hi John," Roma said, offering him a glass of water. "Bellamy wants an update, soon. But not right away."

"I wasn't jumping," Murphy glared, but she simply pushed the water at him again. He accepted her gift and swallowed the water without hesitating. Satisfied, he made her take the returned glass. 

"You do jump," Roma chuckled, darkly. "Something you don't do for anyone else. And he knows it."

"Really?" Murphy wiped the excess moisture from his lips. 

"He's scared of you. Wait, don't interrupt me." She turned so they stood side by side, backs against the drop ship and without having to face each other. "He could like you. But he won't let himself. That's just how it is. In case you need…"

"I could share him with you," admitted Murphy, turning his head. Roma let her eyes track his, but only briefly. Murphy had a feeling Roma could resist looking away. She wouldn't be intimidated by Murphy's stare, so not staring was simply her way of being courteous. 

"Yeah, but he's not… He's not a criminal," Roma hissed. "He's not going to accept us. He's not like us."

Murphy said, "I think I understand you, but… we're not the same either, Roma." He smiled at her, feeling suddenly light. "I'm the criminal."

.:.

"Murphy, Murphy… it's over."

"Whatever you say, boss."

.:.

The best part of the day on which the crowd decided to hang Murphy without trial and until dead had been clobbering Bellamy in the head. Then punching goggles boy for good measure.

.:.

Once banished, Murphy didn't put up a struggle when he was captured. He was hungry and lonely. The Grounders spoke English. They had names. They understood he needed a minimum requirement of food and water. The worst they did was keep him restrained in ropes that were tied too tight.

At first, he was completely and immeasurably bored. If Murphy were anyone else, he might have cared to learn the names or to memorize the buildings that they had moved him between.

His greatest fear was that the Grounders would forget him, leaving him in the cage with the odd-colored torches at the corners.

"You should try to escape," Bellamy said. Murphy started to think of that voice as Not-Bellamy. 

Murphy wasn't so crazy as to think that he had actual company. But he wasn't one to deny himself any indulgences, either. 

"Right, escape," Murphy muttered. "I'll let you come up with that plan."

"Maybe someone will rescue you," Not-Bellamy suggested.

"I would be very surprised if that happened," Murphy sighed. His whole body became dead weight, using the bars to slide and sit. He had lost his fear of the open spaces in the bars. No one bothered to visit the human monkey in the Grounder zoo.

Murphy asked, "Who would even be looking for me? You?"

Not-Bellamy crouched down. 

Oh, Murphy noticed. Not-Bellamy had taken form. Everything from the greasy dark curls, the constellation of freckles and the jacket with excessive zippers on every pocket. 

"You were always more appealing the dirtier you got," Murphy admitted. "I suppose that way I could imagine that we weren't all that much different, you and I."

Murphy let his gaze drift between the opposite bars. The torches flickered green, tinted with sickly yellow at four points at each of the cage corners. Beyond that was shadows and dark and maybe a door to the rest of the Grounder building.

Not-Bellamy shifted to sit blocking the view. If it were possible, the toes of Not-Bellamy's boots would be pushing against Murphy's feet.

"We never would have happened, you know," Not-Bellamy reasoned.

"For being part of my sub-conscious, you're entirely too realistic," Murphy complained. "Say something nice to me for once."

"I might have kept a harem of girls, but if I had been able to settle my feelings for you," Not-Bellamy admitted, "I would have chosen to be with only you."

"Wish fulfillment," muttered Murphy. "Does not make me feel better."

"Really?" doubted Not-Bellamy. "You weren't listening to what Roma said to you that last day before everything went to hell."

.:.

Then one moment, without warning, the Grounders took Murphy, tied him down with wires, pulled a rope around his neck and taught him the pain of a thousand open wounds.

Not-Bellamy stood and watched as Murphy screamed himself hoarse.

"It's okay. Tell them everything they want to know. Tell them so they'll stop." The voice was as clear as if spoken directly into his ear. "Tell them so you can live, John."

.:.

"You're bleeding. Lashes against your arms. The cuts on your face and back. You have a fever," Not-Bellamy recited. Murphy drifted in and out of darkness listening to that voice. He had nothing else to hold onto.

"Be careful of your hands. But you still have your shoes. John, they left your legs alone. You might be weak, but we could just get up and walk out of here."

Murphy groaned, "I told you to be nice to me."

"Ah, he speaks," encouraged Not-Bellamy. "Try looking at me next."

"I don't want to open my eyes."

"This is real whether you want it to be or not," rebuked Not-Bellamy. "No one is going to do this for you."

"You're not real."

"Open your eyes."

Squinting, reluctant and angry at the goading, Murphy's eyes ached but the torch light was minimal. And pale yellow.

"Bellamy?" Murphy tried to sit up. Instead, he threw himself in a different direction on the ground, flopping, and then vomiting blood. He ached, his arms burned, slipped wet with blood and his whole body protested from exhaustion.

He couldn't see Not-Bellamy.

"I'm still here," came an immediate reassurance.

"I can't see you."

Not-Bellamy was silent for a while. Perhaps Murphy had blacked out. He wasn't certain, although the four torches had burned down to only two. 

"Can you still hear me?" asked Not-Bellamy.

"Can't see you," Murphy grunted, managing to sit up.

"Well, if people could see me," Not-Bellamy pondered, "then they would be crazy."

Murphy pushed over onto his knees, relieving the unbearable pressure on his torn arms. "I'm not crazy?" 

"It wouldn't bother me if you were," Not-Bellamy comforted. "You need to survive this. You need to leave."

"I don't know where to go," Murphy admitted. " _You're_ crazy if you think I could go back."

"Go back."

"To you?"

"Yes."

"And say what?"

Not-Bellamy's next words carried the tone of a smile, "Tell them 'bygones'."

.:.

Once the other survivors from the Ark hauled Murphy into the dropship the questions started again.

"I wasn't sneaking," Murphy explained, tired beyond exhaustion. "I was running."

It was enough to earn a few more hours of life. Clarke shoved aside Bellamy's protests. While they argued, Murphy squinted at the double image. 

Bellamy. And his Not-Bellamy from the cage. 

They were the same height. Both images of Bellamy stood next to each other with almost the same posture. Except one held a gun. The other, crossed his arms and had eyes only for Murphy. Not-Bellamy was shining and perfect compared to the other one. Not-Bellamy smiled. 

"Bygones," said Not-Bellamy. "I told you." He didn't let his smile dim even while Murphy held his tongue. 

"Probably for the best that we keep our secret," agreed Not-Bellamy. "These people are just a means to an end, John. Our end. The ends that keeps us alive."

Murphy managed a slight smile. 

.:.

"No one looks for a murder during a mass death by illness," mused Not-Bellamy, appreciating the handiwork of Murphy's kill. 

"I'm surprised it didn't bother you," Murphy mumbled. He didn't expect to be overheard. No one else was around except the dark-haired girl who had taken up the hammock. 

"What's our strategy? They need to think you're on the side of the angels now," Not-Bellamy reminded. "Stick close to the people who are in good-standing around this place. Stay docile. Take the rotten shifts, make people comfortable if not friendly." He paused. "You're looking much better. Kind of attractive even considering the black eyes."

"Thanks," Murphy replied, grateful. He brushed his hair back from his face. He'd often considered it strange to take a compliment from Not-Bellamy. But for a figment of his imagination, Not-Bellamy didn't hold back the truth when things were grim. 

Murphy set down the bloody rag. He calmly observed, "This used to be my hammock."

Not-Bellamy announced, "I think the other me has moved on."

"Oh, you don't say," Murphy edged his way to the exit. He leaned in the opening and scanned what had become the front court-yard. The wall was built, and from the look of it, heavily reinforced. The camp had been busy. "It looks like a lot has changed while we were gone."

"You were gone for a while," interrupted Clarke. 

Murphy practiced a humble smile. He had not missed the truth that Clarke was his full access meal-chip. If the original Bellamy still felt any camaraderie or ever felt any friendship for Murphy was indiscernible. 

"I need to… I…" Murphy didn't know what he wanted to ask. Clarke waited patiently. He glanced at Not-Bellamy who shrugged. 

At last he asked, "Where is Roma?" 

.:.

Murphy kept a low profile. He knew that he was being watched, but he didn't antagonize anyone. He leveraged his opportunities when he could. Defending Octavia had let him release some steam. His muscles were repairing themselves. They were itching for a fight.

At night, he found places to sleep where he could. Clarke didn't think to make a suggestions. Bellamy never offered. Somehow, he lived less like a prisoner and more like a ghost. 

"Now you know how I feel," joked Not-Bellamy. 

Murphy laughed, quietly. He got enough sideways glances as it was.

But just as often, Murphy could lean against a corner of the wall and overhear enough camp gossip to get the full picture. 

"Bellamy doesn't take girls into his tent anymore." 

"Have you seen the way he looks at Clarke? He wants to pound the princess and start his own monarchy."

"No, Clarke's with Finn. So Raven's after Bellamy. Anyone with eyes can see that."

"Right, I'm pretty sure that if anyone's getting into business with Bellamy--it's Jasper."

"Jasper? Jasper who?"

Murphy kicked off the wall, hurrying along the worn path and away from anyone's constant attention. "The kid with the goggles," Murphy murmured. "That bastard."

Not-Bellamy followed, "You should have killed him when you had a chance."

"You're the bastard," Murphy argued, raising his voice "I should never have listen to you."

"I never said you were the only guy that I would be attracted to," sympathized Not-Bellamy. "Jasper makes sense. He was never strung up that whole time and I have such a hard time going after the people I… Maybe it's a sibling thing."

"It's not," Murphy grimaced. "Octavia is an annoying…"

"And how would you describe me?" interrupted Not-Bellamy. 

Murphy paused considering. Fantasizing about someone for weeks was quite like being perpetually alone. And it was working out just fine so far.

Not-Bellamy huffed, "I meant the real me." 

"He was never like you."

.:.

"Do you ever wish that someone had been there to kill you?" Not-Bellamy asked.

"I wanted to live," Murphy murmured, sitting in the shadows of the drop-ship again. He was getting to be very agile at keeping in the dark places, unseen and forgotten. 

"What do you want, John?"

"That's my father's name," Murphy reminded. "You should know that. Even if he couldn't be bothered with it."

"I know what you tell me," said Not-Bellamy. "I know that your father was floated."

"I was never entirely certain why he was executed," Murphy admitted. "I used to think it was something noble. A sacrifice for my mother. Or for me. Then I learned that men could be floated for impregnating anyone with his second child." Murphy turned to smirk at Not-Bellamy. "My mother would talk to herself when she was able to get drunk. I learned a lot from listening to her."

Raised voices from the other sections of the drop ship urged Murphy to his feet. He wanted to be alone. Murphy moved toward the exit when he heard the weak voice.

"Water…"

"Hey Murphy, isn't this the one who tied the noose?" Not-Bellamy tugged at Murphy's shoulder, drawing their attention to the bed top. "We could shut him up permanently. Like last time."

Murphy briefly puzzled over the touch. But the calls for water were becoming annoying. More and more, suffocation seemed a fitting way for a person from the Ark to kill. 

.:.

It's was Jasper's bad luck to find Murphy in such a mood.

"You know what'll happen to me if you tell Bellamy."

The radio crackled, "Tell Bellamy what?"

Damn it. Things had gone rather sideways for a day in which Murphy simply wanted to be left alone.

.:.

"I would say I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I would be lying," Murphy admitted. He tested the gag he'd put into Jasper's mouth and that the awkward kid could still breathe for the blood gushing out of his nose.

Murphy picked up the walkie-talkie. Oddly enough, he found that he didn't want to talk to the real Bellamy. 

"You could kill Jasper," suggested Not-Bellamy. "Hurt Bellamy."

"No," Murphy shook his head. "Killing Jasper wouldn't hurt Bellamy. Bellamy and Jasper don't know. They're further away from realizing it than when it was the two of us."

Jasper struggled, briefly. His eyes were wide and disproportionally terrified compared to Murphy's intentions. 

"I think I should tell him," Murphy considered.

"Is this the direction you want to take?" Not-Bellamy seemed disappointed. "You're not going to try for me?"

"That was never going to happen again. Besides I already have you," Murphy decided. 

He dropped the gun to point at Jasper. "Goggles Boy, I'm talking to you. So you're going to listen." 

Murphy stepped closer in order to speak more quietly. "I can promise you that Bellamy is figuring out a way to save you. That's more than he ever did for me. And probably, I'll agree, more than I deserved. But I also didn't deserve what I got."

"I could love you," Not-Bellamy prompted.

"Bellamy could love you," Murphy calmly explained. 

"And I don't mean like a brother," added Not-Bellamy.

"He just doesn't try. He's worried about how it'll look and what Octavia will think. He might not want to give up girls completely," Murphy was surprised at how easy it was to explain all their secrets, out loud, to a stranger. "I couldn't be that for him. But someone like you?"

Murphy paused. He considered Jasper for a moment and ordered, "Nod if you understand me. Nod." He hesitated. Jasper's frantic nodding didn't guarantee anything. "Nodding just because. Get it together, man. It's not like you could do any better than Bellamy. You might have a chance."

"A chance if he lives," Not-Bellamy reminded.

Murphy shook Not-Bellamy's echoes from his head, and continued with Jasper, "But you don't have to take my word for it. If you listen, you'll hear it when he talks to you. He's too afraid to say more, and he will try to pry it out of you." 

It wasn't long before Murphy proved his point. The camp wanted to trade.

Bellamy's voice snapped over the static, "You don't want to hurt Jasper. You want to hurt me."

Murphy threw Jasper out of the drop ship with the gag intact. 

.:.

The real Bellamy was not as handsome as Murphy remembered. 

Murphy kept the gun up, aimed, ready to fire. But he couldn't stop looking for Not-Bellamy. Murphy squinted. The light around the now familiar figure was pulsing, sometimes piercing. He could almost sense the rippling heat, as if the two Bellamy's could no longer exist in the same place. One light, one dark. One casting out the other.

After the first gunshot, Murphy brought himself back into the present more completely. He heard Bellamy's instructions to the workers. And the orders for Raven. Raven was the dark-haired girl.

"You've slept with Raven, haven't you," Murphy stated. "Always easy with the girls. But you make Jasper struggle for it. If you'd give him a break, I'm sure he'd work something out for you. A guy like that? He'd find a way." Murphy surprised them both when he said, "Maybe they could like each other too."

"What?" Bellamy winced. 

"You replaced us so easily. Roma. And me," Murphy explained. "We weren't good enough for you. Yeah, I heard about Roma. She deserved better. I liked Roma."

"Murphy…"

"John," said Not-Bellamy. "Quit trying so hard. I'm an idiot and I deserve to feel what you felt. Hang me."

.:.

Murphy remembered when they opened the doors. The first day on Earth, alive after a reckless drop from space, and anything was possible. The sister had inched her way to their first steps on the ground.

Murphy had meant to move forward, to rush ahead, when an arm had held him back. 

Bellamy spoke. And inexplicably, Murphy listened.

"Let her have this. Stay with me."

.:.

"Is any of this making you feel better?" Not-Bellamy asked, observing the stand-off. "I can't even apologize properly."

Murphy watched Bellamy toss the rope through the elevated beams. He took the noose into his hands. 

Not-Bellamy circled the room, Murphy curiously tracked Not-Bellamy's reactions. He seemed more irritated with himself than Murphy felt. 

When the gun misfired, Bellamy wobbled and hesitated.

"Tell me you tried to be a good person for me," Not-Bellamy scowled, analyzing himself. "Tell me… tell _him_ that you stood in between. That you defended Bellamy. That you made the threats back down. That you always had his back. That when you were unjustly accused … you asked him for trust."

Murphy sighed, "I could never really be good."

"You're murdering people, Murphy," Bellamy stalled. "You've always been a criminal. But you were our criminal."

"He is my criminal," Not-Bellamy interrupted, unheeded. "And then you did nothing to save him."

Murphy repeated, "Put the rope over your head."

.:.

In the first hours on Earth, Murphy had reunited his guys from the prison block. The smart guy, like Atom, wasn't always the fastest with his fists. The smartest guys found the fighter and supported him. 

It lasted only until Bellamy Blake charmed his way over the crowd. Murphy had been enchanted, unable to resist the enthusiastic speaking. Someone who understood Murphy's unvoiced hopes. 

Murphy had persuaded the others. "I have never heard someone talk like this guy talks. As if he were taking the very words right out of my own head."

.:.

Murphy tightened the rope. Not-Bellamy came closer, near to Murphy's damaged ear. The hearing aid buzzed, becoming a slight interruption of the natural sound.

Not-Bellamy spoke, but this time it sounded quite like Murphy's own voice. 

"Y'know, I've got to hand it to you, Bellamy. You've got them all fooled. They actually look up to you, almost as much as they look up to Clarke. Yeah, well, we know the truth, don't we? You're a coward.

"I learned that the day you kicked out the crate from beneath me."

The buzzing changed to dull, steady ring. Murphy felt lost in the reverb of experiencing the truth in his own words.

"I should have stopped them," said Bellamy. 

Murphy wanted him to say that. But Bellamy could never get his timing right. Because the voices overlapped again. Not-Bellamy's and his own.

"Yeah it's a little late for that now." 

Bellamy retorted, "You think they're just gonna let you walk out of here?"

Not-Bellamy sounded pissed when he used Murphy's voice next. "Well, I think the princess is dead… and I know the king's about to die, so who's really gonna lead these people, huh? Me, that's who. And, yeah, maybe I'll have to kill the grounder-pounding little sister--"

Murphy grabbed the length of cord.

A moment later and a shrill voice rang up from the floor boards. Not-Bellamy marched toward Murphy to make certain that he'd heard. 

Not-Bellamy explained, "Raven."

"I'm guessing that's her right now," Murphy comprehended. Raven. Not Octavia. He put a couple warning shots into the floor until the gun jammed.

"Watch out for me," Not-Bellamy warned. "Kick the table, now!" With the table gone, Bellamy twisted, swinging with his fingers grasping at the cord. 

"Using your hands is a cheat. Mine were bound, remember?" Murphy protested, furious.

Bellamy connected a punch to Murphy's jaw. Knocked to the floor, Murphy picked up the useless gun. He returned with blow to Bellamy's core. 

"The door." Suddenly Not-Bellamy was at Murphy's shoulder. "Jasper's going to want to kill you. And no one is going to understand why he feels that's necessary better than you."

Murphy fled.

,:,

On the second level, Murphy scrambled to find ammunition. He could hear Jasper calling for Raven, likely solidifying the establishment of their recently formed trio. 

"And now, thanks to you, I might get over myself long enough to reciprocate," Not-Bellamy reported. The conversations were all starting to sound the same again. His own thoughts bouncing around.

Murphy found a useable bullet.

Someone was trying to get through the barred hatch. "Murphy! Murphy, it's over!"

"What are you going to do?" Not-Bellamy, possibly Murphy himself, asked. "Are you going to kill Bellamy after all?"

He didn't particularly want to kill Bellamy anymore. Not that he could find any other way out of the situation. He wasn't sure he was ready to die just yet either.

"What do you want?"

The answer came like a dream. 

"I want to come back someday. Find out that Raven gave Bellamy and Jasper babies. And they never were quite sure who the fathers were, but it didn't matter. Because no one got floated for loving anyone. Ever." 

"John, you had a very sweet dream."

Was he going to take this shot? He only had one.

"John."

"What is it, now?" Murphy snapped. 

"John!" Not-Bellamy shimmered with mirth. He lounged against the work desk and waved his hand over a labeled container.

Bellamy said, "There's only one way out of this for you now."

Not-Bellamy grinned, "You want to bet?"

.:.

From the path outside the camp, Murphy could hear someone saying his name. 

"Oh, now aren't they cute," said Not-Bellamy, who never seemed out of breath. Although, he still looked like he could use a wash.

Murphy rubbed at his chin. He scanned behind him for what Not-Bellamy had somehow already known. Bellamy and Jasper. Together. Leaning through the hole left by Murphy's escape route blast.

"Come on," Not-Bellamy prompted. "They'll find Raven and maybe I'll learn from my mistakes. From what I did to you. And how I neglected to care for Roma. How I never considered your dream for us."

Murphy tilted his head, the buzzing was gone from his ears. He considered Not-Bellamy, but not overly long. In the daylight, it almost seemed as if he was solid enough to cast a shadow.

Murphy asked, "Are you coming with me?"

Not-Bellamy nodded, no hesitation, "Yes."

"Well, okay then." Murphy continued on his way.

Murphy never saw much point to denying himself what he wanted. Life was short, shitty and no one was going to look out for you but you.


End file.
